


Lonely Rivers Flow

by nightimedreamer



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Baking, Boys In Love, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Ghost (movie) - Freeform, Idiots in Love, M/M, Simon's just learning how to bake go easy on him, Slow Dancing, Slow dancing in the kitchen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also Baz is a romantic ok, but make it baking, dancing while covered in flour and sugar, romance is not dead, sensual pottery scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightimedreamer/pseuds/nightimedreamer
Summary: Friday is Simon and Baz's movie night. This Friday is also their first dating anniversary, and even though they don't have big plans for it, being together is what makes it special.OR; Simon's just learning how to bake (scones shouldn't have this texture, right?) and Baz wants to watch a sappy movie.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 20
Kudos: 102





	Lonely Rivers Flow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caitybug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/gifts).



> (I told you I was going to write something for you, didn't I? 😁💕)
> 
> Hello everyone, look who's back at the tender business! This is just a bit of stress writing: domestic/fluffy Snowbaz to help warm my heart (and yours, hopefully).  
> This was partly inspired by this week's spark from [@carryonsparks](http://carryonsparks.tumblr.com) on Tumblr: the word "Slow" turned into slow dancing!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
> Check the [Unchained Melody](https://youtu.be/IYj2hex99gY)

**Simon**

I won't give up until the fucking kitchen explodes.

I stare at the mixture, as if the sheer power of my will can make it flow with the right consistency. It does nothing. I try to move the spoon, but it's stuck on the dough. 

The plan was to have my scones ready before Baz got home—Friday is the day his classes finish off earlier, as well as mine, so we usually use the bit of extra time to cuddle on the sofa and watch something, just relaxing with each other.

The problem is that Baz arrived almost an hour ago, and now he's waiting for me to do just that, slouched on our sofa, playing with the TV control. (He's put on some sappy movie, and he keeps pausing and restarting it every five minutes.) 

And I'm still locked in our kitchen, fighting what is supposed to be scone dough, but instead looks a lot like cement. (This is my second attempt—and I really hope Baz never finds out what happened to the first.) 

"Snow," Baz calls, sounding annoyed, "are you coming or not? If you want, we can pick another movie." 

"I'll be done in five minutes!" (I said the same thing half an hour ago.) "You can just start watching it without me." 

Baz huffs, and I hear him stomping over to the kitchen. He leans against the counter, right by my side, and glares at me. "Has it ever occurred to you that the whole point of watching a romantic movie with your boyfriend is watching it _together?_ Preferably, you know, cuddling." 

I look up at him, just to find a bloody (perfect) eyebrow quirked at me. It makes my lips twist in an exasperated smile.

"I'm just trying to make something nice for us," I say, shrugging. "It should be special." Like, _today_ is special. It's our day. First dating anniversary and all. 

Baz frowns at the bowl as I poke the dough around (I've already given up on trying to mix it). "Can't we just buy scones from the bakery down the street?" 

"It's closed by now. And besides..." I bite my lip, "Well, I wanted to do it myself. It seemed easy enough, and I just thought—argh. Sorry." I mumble, shaking my head.

"Hey, it's okay, Simon." Baz steps closer and bumps my shoulder with his, laughing a little. "I mean, it's adorable, and I've never been more in love with you." My heart flips inside my chest when I look at him, at his warm smile. "But you should know that, well... Just being here is enough to me. With you, I mean." 

I smile, warmth spreading over my face, and tug at my hair. My hands are all sticky and covered in flour, but I don't care. _I'm_ already covered in it, anyway. (There was an accident with the flour, don't come at me.) 

"I... know. I just don't understand how I could fuck it up like this." 

Baz looks around. The kitchen is a complete mess. Actually, I'm surprised that he didn't point it out as soon he came in. Some time ago, he would tease me even about the smallest of things, and now he doesn't even—

"Look, Snow, maybe the fact that a hurricane wrecked the kitchen isn't helping." 

I chuckle, shaking my head. Spoke too soon. (Some things _never_ change, really.) 

"What do you suggest, then?" I ask.

"That you let me help," he says, scanning the ingredients spread all over the counter. "Where's the recipe?"

I point to my phone, letting out a defeated sigh as Baz scrolls through the recipe I found on the internet. 

"I don't know what's wrong. I did everything exactly like it says, the proportions are all right... I think." (Uh. Maybe it was too much butter.) "And, well, I'm pretty sure someone can't fuck up the dough just by stirring it, right? Not even _me."_

Baz sticks a finger into the bowl, and the dough clings to him like... I don't even know, but I'm positive it shouldn't have this texture. 

He's clearly trying not to grimace. "Perhaps..." His eyebrows shoot up. "Perhaps, after it goes into the oven, it's going to get better?" 

I wrinkle my nose. "I really doubt it, Baz. It just got worse the first time." 

"What... first time, Snow?" He raises both eyebrows at me, and I bite my tongue. 

"You don't want to know." 

"Okay, then..." Baz wipes the dough on my already dirty apron, that small smile still playing on his lips as I exclaim " _Hey_!" and shove at his shoulder. Then, he starts picking the dirty bowls I left over the table, gathering my ingredients, and cleaning up the general mess of flour, sugar, and broken eggs. 

I've become familiar with this over the past few months—us moving around each other like this, doing our chores, sometimes studying together. Our routines intertwined, coming home everyday and knowing that he'll be here. 

As natural as it feels, though, there was a time when I thought something like this would be impossible. After all, Baz and I shared a room for _eight years_ at the boarding school _,_ and... Well, we didn't get along. 

(That's an euphemism. We used to _hate_ each other.) (Or at least I used to think that I hated him.) 

I didn't see Baz for a year after school was over, but I ended up meeting him again at uni. We started talking, somehow, and decided to start over, leave the school years behind. (I guess I missed him during that time. Not that I thought about him everyday, just... Seeing him again felt right, and I wanted to keep doing it.) 

I can't help but smile. We've come a long way, really. Now, I have Baz Pitch walking around my messy kitchen, humming something to himself while I (try to) bake for us, and occasionally stopping by to kiss my cheek. (Or my lips.) (Or my neck.) 

Baz Pitch, my boyfriend. We've been together for a year, but sometimes it's still hard to believe. 

When he's finished, Baz heads out of the kitchen.

He comes back right after, leaving the door open, and I can hear voices coming from the living room. I look at him, puzzled. 

"It's fine if you can't watch the movie," he says, tilting his head, amused, "but at least you can listen to it." 

I laugh. "Yeah, as well as all of our neighbors." 

Baz clicks his tongue, leaning against the counter again. "I don't think they're going to mind." 

I look at him, and he looks at me, then I stop to pay attention at what I can hear from the movie. "This is that—is it that horror movie you were talking about? The one with Swayze." 

Baz rolls his eyes, " _Ghost_ isn't a horror movie, Snow."

"How would I know? It's a deceiving title." 

He leans into me and pecks at my lips. "It's peak romance," he whispers against my lips, "perfect to watch cuddling." 

This time, I'm the one rolling eyes. "I should have known. Baz, you're a sap." 

He laughs, and his breath warms my face. "You really should, Snow. I've been _your_ sap for exactly one year, now." 

I shake my head, happiness filling my chest like bubbles. (Turns out I do know two or three things about the movie _Ghost_. Number 1: Swayze dies and comes back as a ghost. Duh.)

I get on my tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Do you want to help me shape the dough?" 

"Of course, love." 

I nod, then stare at my mutant dough for a moment. Finally, I just incline the bowl and tip it onto the counter. I poke at the dough, rolling it around, but the texture is _definitely_ wrong.

"Uh." I look at Baz, "It looked different on the videos I watched." 

"Try to put some flour on the counter," he suggests. 

I do it, scattering some flour onto the counter, then dredging the dough and my hands with it. Baz does the same with his. 

Like this, it's a lot easier to handle the dough, but it still doesn't have the right consistency. Anyway. I move it in circles, trying to give the damn thing something that at least resembles a round form.

I feel arms sneaking around me, hugging me from behind. I turn to look at Baz, but he dips his face into the crook of my neck. His arms squeeze me lightly for a second, barely a real hug, and then he places both of his hands over mine on the dough, enlacing our dusted fingers. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, and he starts kissing up my neck, the spot behind my ear and then along my jaw. 

"Remember that scene in _Ghost_ ," he says against my cheek, "when Swayze and Demi Moore are making a pot together? I thought, well, if we're not going to watch it, at least we can do it ourselves." 

I laugh as he keeps kissing my face, my moles and freckles, from the tip of my nose to my temple. 

(Of course I know about that sensual pottery scene. That's thing number 2.)

"Fine, Baz, I already know this fucking dough is disastrous. No need to compare it to actual clay." 

"What if you damp it a little—" 

"Oh, fuck off!" I say, but I can't stop laughing. I turn my head just enough to peck at his jaw. I can feel his chest shaking with laughter against my back. 

I start moving my hands experimentally, and Baz moves his along. I look at our hands moving together, shaping the stubborn dough. We move it around, flattening it a little, and then—well. 

Baz starts humming against my temple, and it feels like his voice is vibrating through my whole body. I realise I have completely forgotten about the movie playing in our living room, but this melody... 

" _Ohhhhhhhhhh_... _my love_..." Baz's arms close around my hips in a proper hug, and I swear I can't breathe as he continues to sing, " _My darling... I've hungered for your touch_." 

(Oh, yeah. Thing number 3: the theme song.) 

He sways, slowly, and I go along, barely moving in place, just changing my weight between my feet. 

" _A long, lonely time..._ " 

My heart aches a little thinking about it, all those years sharing a room with him and feeling so... Alone. Isolated inside myself, even though he was right there. Especially now, knowing that Baz had been in love with me all along. 

"Do you prefer the scones in circles or triangles?" I ask, trying to distract myself from those thoughts. 

"I think triangles are more aesthetically pleasing," he cuts himself for a moment, then takes a deep breath before rumbling: " _And time goes by so slowly..."_

I cut the dough in six wedges and brush them with butter (the recipe said to use heavy cream, but I don't have it and I'm already going to butter the scones, anyway.)

I'm almost done when we're interrupted by what sounds a lot like _shooting._

"What the fuck." I say, startled, almost jumping behind the counter. I catch Baz's wide eyes, and then he lets out a breathless laugh. 

"I..." Baz glances through the door, "Guess Swayze just died." 

"Oh." I nod, placing a hand over my racing heart, "thank god. I mean, uh, too bad for him." 

Baz shakes his head, chuckling. "Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right."

I giggle as he turns me around, putting my arms around his neck as Baz hugs me. I rest my head on his chest, feeling more than listening to him as he continues singing: 

" _And time can do so much!... are you... still mine?_ " We sway together through the kitchen, ever so slowly, giggling and stealing kisses and sometimes just staring at each other like we can't look away. " _I need your love..."_

He's singing terribly off key. I'm completely covered in flour, sugar, butter and who knows what else. He's got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. I've never felt so whole. One of Baz's hands on my back, the other coming up to rest between my shoulder blades. 

" _I need your love..."_ he whispers, breath ghosting over my lips. (No pun intended.) 

"Okay, I get it," I laugh, catching his lips with mine. It feels like I've been waiting for this kiss the whole night, but... 

It doesn't last ten seconds. 

"Simon," Baz pulls away, eyes soft and shining, " _stop_ ruining the mood, you moron." 

"Just let me put the scones in the oven, then!" I say, but I don't make any effort to untangle myself from him. 

I end up just kissing him again, a quick peck, before pulling away hesitantly. 

The oven is already preheated, so I just shove my scones in there. This part shouldn't take long—perhaps fifteen minutes...

Baz pulls me to him again, singing with refreshed determination. 

" _God speed your love... To me._ " He brings me closer and closer, until there's no space left between us. I'm ready to settle on that careful rhythm again; rest my head on his shoulder, close my eyes and let myself sway to his rumbling voice. 

Everything changes in a swift movement, of course, because it's Baz.

" _Lonely rivers flow_ —" he pulls away all of a sudden, letting go of one of my hands, our arms swinging between us. " _To the sea, to the sea..._ " 

Then, he circles his arm over my head, spinning me around. The problem is that I've never been graceful as he is, so of course I trip on my own feet and almost crash into him. 

" _To_ _the open arms_..." Baz pulls me back to his arms, steadying me against his chest, "... _Of the sea, yeahhhhhh_..." 

I chuckle, slightly breathless, lifting my eyes to look at him, and _oh my._ He's so beautiful. He looks so happy. 

(This is where I was supposed to be all along: Baz's arms. All my life flowing to this sea of little moments with him. To _him)_. 

" _Lonely rivers sigh... 'Wait for me, wait for me'_..." 

We slow down again, and now Baz is more whispering than really singing, but he doesn't stop. (I shouldn't be surprised that he knows the lyrics.) 

" _I'll be coming home... Wait for me_." 

*******

We're sitting at the sofa, Ghost Swayze talking on the background, staring at the tray of scones between us. 

I mean, no. I can't call these things "scones". It's just too offensive to the real scones. 

"We can pretend it just went wrong because you overbaked them." Baz says, sympathetically. 

I huff. "It was your fault." There's no annoyance in my voice, though. I'm as guilty of this disaster as he is. (Perhaps even more, because I was the one who messed up the dough in the first place.) 

Baz just laughs. "I was trying to be _romantic_ , Snow. It's not my fault that you succumbed to my charm and forgot them in the oven." 

I shrug, chewing on my cheek, trying to hold back a smile. We got so caught up on dancing I didn't hear the bloody timer go off. 

So now we have a tray of overbaked, coal-looking scones. 

"Simon," Baz calls me softly, "You okay?" 

"Yes, I'm... It's fine." I rub a hand over my face. "I just wanted today to be... special." I mumble. 

"Snow, I already told you, didn't I? Being with you makes _everything_ special." He leans in to kiss me, and it's slow, soft. "Besides," Baz whispers, brushing some curls off my face, "I bet they're still eatable." 

I laugh a little. "Well, if you want to try, go ahead." 

Baz picks up a non-scone and bites. I mean, he tries to. 

"Uh—hmmmm," he grins, brow furrowing, and I can't help but laugh as he grimaces. "It's—" Baz coughs. 

"Terrible," I finish for him, "I know, it's okay. You don't have to do it, Baz." 

"No, I'm—" he shuts his eyes tightly. "I just need some water." 

Baz gets up, walking quickly towards the kitchen. I pick the bitten scone he left behind and take a bite. 

_Fuck_ , it's awful. I have to make physical effort not to spit it. Luckily, Baz comes back right after, handing me a cup of water. 

"Thank you," I breathe, drinking it all in one gulp. "I'm sorry, Baz." 

"It's fine. They're not so bad," he says, sitting down beside me. "One can tell you put a lot of effort into them. That's what matters." 

I shake my head, laughing. "Stop trying to spare my feelings, Pitch." 

"I'm being serious!" Baz puts an arm around my shoulders. "They taste like love, Snow." 

I roll my eyes as he leans in to kiss me again. I can still taste that godawful scone in his mouth. 

And he's right, I guess. It does taste like love. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, folks! 💕💖💕💖 I hope you liked this.  
> If you're interested on knowing more about me and my writing, come talk to me on [Tumblr!](https://nightimedreamersworld.tumblr.com/)


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